Page 63 of Hot for the Boss

Nia barely glances at the five carats of cushion-cut solitaire before she sets the ring on the mattress beside her. “Evan, that’s not the same as love.”

Maybe not, but why isn’t that close enough? I grit my teeth and try to hang on to my composure. “Don’t say no.”

She pauses such a long time, and I find myself holding my breath. If she refuses me, I’m not sure what else I can do to persuade her.

Finally, she presses her lips together. “I don’t want to. But I told you how I feel. Being with you has made me feel things… The way you touched me just now, I would have sworn you felt the same way.”

The fact I’m not professing my undying love hurts her. I’m surprised by how much knowing that hurts me in turn. “Nia, there’s no one else for me. I will give you every part of myself—my attention, my protection, my dedication, my fortune, my commitment.”

“But not your heart.”

How do I reassure her without giving her the words simply because she wants to hear them? “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never felt about any woman the way I feel about you, not even Becca. It’s like…I’m connected to you in a way I can’t explain. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life without you by my side. I don’t know what you call that. I don’t know the words for it. But I know that’s what’s happening with me.”

When I take her hand, she meets my stare with tear-filled eyes. “You confuse me.”

“I’m confused, too. You’re really not accepting my proposal?”

She cups my cheek. “Everything in my head tells me to say no and walk away, let you move to Maui alone. But I can’t.”

Hope burns hot and instant. “So…you’re saying yes?”

Nia shakes her head. “The first time you asked me to marry you, you said I could give you my answer before you relocate here. I need the next six weeks to decide.”

“We can’t just keep dating.” It’s not working. I’m spending time with her, but we’re not close enough. It’s not intimate enough. We’re working together but leading separate personal lives. That hardly gives me the opportunity to convince her I can make her deliriously content even if I never speak that trio of cliché words. “It’s not enough.”

She blows out a breath. “Let me think.”

I disappear into the bathroom, fighting the completely irrational urge to punch a wall. Why is she clinging to some unnecessary, antiquated notion of hearts and flowers? Why doesn’t her logical mind tell her that I’d be so good to her?

Because she leads with her heart. Always has.

Fuck.

After I dispose of the condom and take a minute to bank my frustration, I emerge to see her, legs gathered against her chest, chin on her knees, slowly rocking. She’s distraught. Guilt assails me. I should back down, but that seems too much like giving up—something I’m not prepared to do.

“Are you…breaking up with me?”

Nia lifts her head and regards me, brows furrowed. “No. I won’t deny there’s something strong between us. You say you’ve never felt this way about anyone. I haven’t, either. Ever.”

“Then let’s get married. We’ll figure everything out together.”

Before I even finish speaking, she’s already shaking her head. “That’s not what marriage is for. I only want to get married once.”

“I wanted that, too. But guess what?” I snap. Instantly, I wish I could take the words back. It’s not Nia’s fault that Becca is gone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Her death hurt you, and I understand you never thought you’d find yourself single and searching again. You’re entitled to be confused. Angry even. Maybe I should be the one backing off so you have more time to grieve and decide⁠—”

“I don’t need time. I know what I want.” I grab her arms. “I want you.”

“But not because you love me.” She wriggles free. “I’m not a consolation prize.”

“Damn it. Do you not understand?”

She shakes her head. “I’m trying to see this from your point of view. You don’t want to be alone or with someone you don’t like. And you don’t want to be with someone you have lousy sex with. I’m available, we’re friends, and when we’re together, it’s all blazing skies and fireworks. Check, check, check. But I’m more than items on your list. I’m a woman.” She claps an emphatic hand to her chest. “Maybe you don’t relate, but I have feelings and dreams. And never once did I imagine myself saying, ‘Even though you don’t love me, I’ll marry you for your companionship and your checkbook, baby.’ That’s not who I am.”

I sigh. She’s right. “How can we compromise?”

Nia falls silent. I feel my blood pressure rise. I’m not angry at her, just at the situation I don’t know how to solve. Why doesn’t simple logic make this better?